


You're the One, You're All I've Ever Wanted

by writinqwronqs



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25635979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writinqwronqs/pseuds/writinqwronqs
Summary: Annie/Britta fic loosely based on Mitski's "Your Best American Girl"
Relationships: Annie Edison/Britta Perry
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First community fic! Just binge watched the whole thing for the first time and became obsessed.

Prologue

Britta Perry is not a romantic. She knows this because she’s a realist. She’s never been the type of girl to go pining over some romance novel cover sort of Fabio, and she’s never really cared if a guy buys her flowers before (or after, for that matter) they fuck. She doesn’t expect the world to stop spinning for one brief moment when she meets the love of her life, or her heart to skip a beat. She knows better than that.

xx

Annie Edison is a hopeless romantic, just a girl waiting for her Fabio to come in and sweep her off her feet. She knows, logically, that that might not happen for her right away, but a girl can dream. And she does. She scribbles her name in bubbly cursive letters inside of her pink, sparkly journal next to the last name of basically any guy she likes (so, basically Vaughn, Troy, or Jeff) and/or any movie star she’s majorly crushing on.

Annie’s never had the sort of heart fluttering kiss or knee weakening- ahem- um, anything else, that she’s seen in the movies, but she knows that there’s a guy out there waiting to give that to her. It’s not a matter of it, it’s just a matter of when.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: If I could, I’d be your little spoon and kiss your fingers forevermore

The rest of the study group is already in the library when Britta arrives about 15 minutes late (as per usual). She notices the little look Annie gives her, the one she can never quite read, where she looks simultaneously a little mad at her but also a little like she wishes she could loosen up and be late one day. Okay, maybe that last part is Britta’s imagination trying to make her feel better about herself. She grabs her book, flips to page 214 (thanks, Abed) and tries her best to focus.

The thing is, normally Annie glares at her and then looks away, but Britta keeps (subtly!) glancing up and seeing Annie’s eyes still trained on her. She notices a little bit of softness in them, she can almost imagine they’ve turned a warmer blue, like a pool in the summer, or soft ocean waves, or-

“Right, Britta?”

“Oh, erm, yeah. Definitely,” Britta responds sheepishly to Jeff’s questioning gaze.

“See,” he continues on, apparently nonplussed, “I told you! Even a vegetarian can agree that meat is delicious.”

Britta rolls her eyes but she’s walked herself right into this one. She hadn’t realized she’d been zoning out so hard thinking about Annie’s eyes. As soon as the thought of _that_ being what was distracting her processes Britta can feel her cheeks burning pink.

And of course, when she glances up shyly to make sure no one’s going to tease her for it, there’s only Annie, staring right back at her with an even softer look in her eyes. And maybe one with a touch of understanding.

xx

A few hours later Britta is at home, opening and closing her fridge and looking for something for dinner when she hears a knock on her door.

Not sure who on earth would be visiting her, she grabs her baseball bat on the way to the door and does her best to see through the scratched and foggy peephole. Since this doesn’t work, and never has, she opts to swing the door open with her bat held aloft, just to be sure whoever’s out there doesn’t try anything stupid. Or anything stupider than opening the door with a bat in your hand.

She steels herself and pulls the door open and-

“Eeeeep! Britta! It’s me!”

“Oh, Annie, hey,” Britta relaxes her pro-baseball player stance and moves to the side. “Come on in.”

Annie walks in carefully, like Britta might just decide to hit her with the bat anyway, and then looks around. She’s been to Britta’s apartment a few times, but she’s always surprised by how nice it is. It’s got sort of a cool boho-chic kind of style. And everything matches, and there are plants everywhere (which Annie is surprised that Britta can keep alive), and it’s just overall cozy and warm feeling.

Britta sets her bat by the door and says “So, uh, what brings you here?”

Annie knows she isn’t saying it to be mean. The 2 of them have had their differences in the past, and she and Britta don’t necessarily just… hang out.

“Well, actually, I don’t really know,” Annie says with a small laugh. “I didn’t really want to eat buttered noodles and watch some campy horror movie with Troy and Abed and when I left our apartment and got in the car my mind just kind of brought me here. Is that okay?” Annie’s cheeks redden a little and she looks kind of embarrassed, so Britta is quick to wave her nervousness away.

“Of course! I don’t have any plans tonight. I was actually just realizing that I don’t have any food here, though. Do you want to grab some dinner with me?”

“Oh, sure,” Annie says, smiling in a way that Britta thinks is just a little too sweet and a little too genuine. Britta often finds herself thinking this way about the younger woman, thinking that what she used to call annoying, overly girlish, male-gaze catering, and anti-feminist, she now finds just kind of sweet. She shakes her head to dislodge these patently un-feminist ideas and snags her keys off the hook by her door.

“Great,” she says, “I’ll drive.”

xx

If Annie didn’t already think Britta was way cooler than her, her choice of restaurant solidifies it. They end up at a chic place in Downtown Denver, a hip vegetarian place called City O’ City.

Once they’ve ordered Annie looks around at the décor, the chalkboard specials menu above the long, dark wood bar, the graffiti style art adorning the walls, and the eclectic staff, who she would almost count as part of the decoration.

“This place is super cool,” she says, hoping she doesn’t sound too much like a little kid. She hates being the baby in the study group, being innocent little Annie. She wants to sound more grown up, less like a baby deer. This doesn’t stop her from using her wide, glossy doe eyes on the rest of the group from time to time. You gotta use what works.

“I love it,” Britta says, glancing around and sighing happily. She seems totally in her element and for a second Annie envies her that. She watches Britta, who doesn’t seem to notice her watching, for a minute. Watches her card her hand through her halo of blonde hair and smile kindly at a waiter. She watches her doodle in the dew on the side of her water glass, focusing intently on such a silly task. Annie has always admired the fact that Britta doesn’t let anyone else decide who she is. She thinks this unflinching self-confidence is why people tend to take her seriously. Except Jeff, but who counts Jeff?

Britta seems to all of a sudden notice Annie staring, and Annie tries to shift her eyes away but she knows she’s been caught.

“Everything okay?” Britta asks, looking at Annie with her head tilted slightly.

“Yeah,” Annie says, smiling lightly.

Britta, thank God, drops it and their food and drinks arrive not long after. Annie’s ordered some fruity special, and since her hands feel sweatier and her heart feels flutterier than normal she downs it pretty quickly, and then orders another one. By her third one she’s feeling _pretty_ warm. She’s laughing more freely and smiling more easily and leaning more closely. At one point Britta reaches out and lays a hand on her arm while they laugh and she feels even warmer.

Which means nothing, right?

xx

By the time they’ve finished dinner Annie has had 4 little fruity drinks and she’s feeling pretty happy and warm. It’s a Friday night, so there’s plenty going on, but she feels a little too tipsy to be out walking around.

“Hey Britta?” she asks, suddenly feeling a little shy.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to like, I don’t know. Go back to your place and watch a movie or something?”

“Sure,” Britta says, leading them back to her car.

xx

They decide on some newish Indie film by some Belgian producer (French? Annie doesn’t really know). Britta’s in the kitchen making them popcorn, and not even the bag type. She had grabbed a giant glass jar full of kernels and was making it on the stove like some sort of celebrity chef. Annie laughed to herself at that thought as Britta came around the corner with the popcorn. She notices Annie laughing but only offers a silent eye brow raise.

Britta sets the bowl of popcorn down and looks Annie up and down. Annie, for her part, barely blushes.

“Do you want some comfier clothes?”

Annie nods and Britta disappears into her room. She’s gone for a few seconds before she peeks her head back around.

“Um. The clothes are in here.”

“Right!” Annie squeaks, hopping up to follow.

She’s never been in Britta’s room before and something about it feels so _intimate_. She tries to stop noticing how Britta it all is, and tries to stop appreciating how much she likes this, being entirely surrounded by Britta. Her room, even more so than the rest of her apartment, smells like her. The kind of warm, a little sweet, almost cinnamon-y smell that Annie has caught a whiff of when she and Britta have hugged or sat next to one another.

Britta is flipping through her clothes, and she grabs few options and lays them on her bed for Annie to look through. She selects an old black band t-shirt that’s ridiculously soft and a very contrasting pair of little pink shorts. She moves to pull her shirt over her head and Britta’s eyes widen as she moves to leave.

“I’ll just be in the living room,” she says kind of breathily.

It sends a shiver down Annie’s spine, seeing Britta’s cheeks go pink and her eyes dart away from her. She doesn’t wait for Britta to leave and starts getting undressed anyway.

Once she’s settled she heads back out to the living room to find Britta sitting on the far side of the couch. She’s placed the popcorn on the middle cushion, leaving the last cushion for Annie. But Annie is feeling bold, and powerful, and maybe some other things she isn’t quite ready to think about. So she grabs the popcorn, places it on her lap, and sits on the middle cushion. She doesn’t look at Britta right away, a little afraid of what she’ll see in her eyes, but when she does she sees that Britta is looking at her questioningly. She just shrugs a little, scooching close enough to reach across Britta and grab the remote. She plays the movie and kind of leans into Britta a little, pushing a boundary she can’t quite define.

Britta sighs a little, shifts a little, and then seems to give in. She lifts her arm, setting it around Annie’s shoulder, and snuggles a little closer, getting comfy.

Annie’s heart is pounding in her chest. She’s not sure, or maybe not really willing to admit, why. Her whole body feels warm, starting with where Britta’s hand rests lightly on her upper arm. She tries to focus on the movie, tries to follow the plot, but her brain appears to be going haywire. She feels Britta’s breathing even out a little and when she dares to glance up she sees that the older woman has fallen asleep.

This helps Annie to relax a little, and she settles a little more heavily into Britta’s side. She finds that she can’t resist the urge to stretch her arm across Britta’s stomach, to feel her warmth and toy with the fabric of her oversized t-shirt. In her daze she accidentally brushes her fingers across Britta’s stomach. They both gasp, Britta’s eyes jerking open. Annie’s heart is racing but she does her best to appear sleepy as well, as though she was just jerked awake by Britta’s sudden movement.

“Hey,” Britta says, a little dazedly.

“Hey,” Annie says back.

“Ready to call it a night?” Britta asks, yawning.

“Um, do you mind if I crash here? I kinda… overdid it on the drinking at dinner.” Annie puts on her best doe eyes.

“You don’t have to Disney-eye me, Annie, of course you can stay.”

Britta stands and stretches, flicking the tv off on her way past. She heads into the bathroom and comes back with an unopened toothbrush and toothpaste, her own toothbrush dangling from her mouth. Annie follows her back and they brush their teeth side by side, a surprisingly domestic and calm experience.

Britta goes into her room and comes back out with a blanket and pillow.

“What’re you doing?” Annie asks, tilting her head to the side.

“I’ll take the couch,” Britta says, yawning again.

“Britta,” Annie scoffs, laughing a little. “You have like a queen sized bed. We can both fit in it.”

“Alright,” Britta says, putting up surprisingly little argument and walking back into her room. She flops heavily down onto the bed, laughing when Annie crosses her arms at huffs at her to scooch over, and rolling onto her side to face Annie as she lifts the covers.

Annie snuggles in next to her and all of a sudden her heart is pounding again. Britta is so close to her, and she’s so pretty. Which Annie knows. She’s always known. Britta’s like living porcelain, her sharp features softened by her wide blue eyes and soft, pink lips. Why is she looking at Britta’s lips? Why is she thinking that they’re soft? She and Britta are laying next to one another, facing each other on their sides, and when Annie’s eyes dart up from Britta’s lips she finds Britta’s eyes staring right at her. Britta licks her lips, and huffs out a small, minty breath. Annie feels like a magnet is pulling her in to Britta, and right as she leans in (to do what, Annie?) Britta breaks the spell and turns onto her back, looking up at the ceiling. Annie feels an indescribable sense of disappointment, but what was she hoping for? She tries to keep the thoughts out of her mind but she knows.

She knows. She knows she was hoping to kiss Britta just then. She tries to tamp the thought down since, you know, Britta is still right here, in her bed, with Annie, smelling all soft and girly with her damn tousled curly hair and sleepy bedtime eyes. All of a sudden Annie feels overwhelmed. It’s like her life, all of her crushes and kisses and fumbling in dark closets, suddenly flash before her, ending on a big neon sign that says “You’re a lesbian, Annie Edison.” This, she thinks, is why she’s never felt a spark when kissing Vaughn or Jeff, like she felt when Britta wrapped her arm around her shoulder. This is why she’s only so happy to be with a man in her dreams, but in real life everything about being with them feels unnaturally rough, loud, big.

Britta isn’t any of those things. She’s fine boned and soft and so, so pretty. Annie’s chest aches. She feels entirely sober, now, and she wishes for the hazy easiness of being drunk.

Her eyes must give something away because Britta looks over her face carefully, searchingly. “Annie, are you alright?” she’s basically whispering but it feels like a yell to Annie. Annie shifts so she’s leaning up on one elbow, and Britta naturally mirrors her position. “Annie, I-“

Annie leans forward and kisses Britta gently.

xx

When Britta comes around the corner of the kitchen to see Annie laughing to herself she feels butterflies moving in her stomach. She kicks herself a little, knowing that number one, she’s around 9 years the other girl’s senior, number two, Annie is straight, and number three, while she’s comfortable with her own bi identity, she isn’t out to anyone in the study group.

She notices that Annie’s still in her classic Annie’s running for president right after class style outfit and offers her a change of clothes.

Once Annie has picked her pjs she moves to take her top off. Which, normally, would be fine. But since Britta’s already been thinking a little _too much_ about Annie this evening, in a way she can identify as not on the friendship side of her brain, she blushes and makes a move to escape. She notices a knowing glint in Annie’s eyes, like she knows that Britta wants to look but isn’t. She can’t get out of the room quickly enough. Once she’s on the couch she sets the popcorn down, creating a physical barrier so she can remind herself to COOL IT.

But when Annie returns she just picks the popcorn up and settles in right next to Britta. Britta tries to shuffle a little, to remove a little of the insistent press of Annie’s _perfect_ chest into her arm, but Annie is persistent. So Britta just lifts her arm to make it more comfortable for both of them and hopes to God that Annie can’t hear her heart pounding out of her chest.

Annie settles in and Britta does not. She can feel Annie’s warmth too acutely. She knows she’s noticing it too much and she can’t handle the idea that she’s perving on a 22 year old. So she does what she does best, she evens out her breathing and pretends to be asleep. Pretends she’s not uncomfortably warm in places she shouldn’t be. And it’s working. It’s working. It is. That is until Annie snakes her arm across Britta’s waist and starts toying with the hem of her shirt.

Britta’s mind is racing. Annie must be doing it absent-mindedly but it’s driving her positively insane. She tries to keep her breathing even but when Annie’s fingers graze her stomach she gasps and her eyes fly open. She looks down to find Annie gazing at her sleepily. So, it was just an accident, Annie was sleeping for real and just reached out and grabbed Britta’s shirt, probably thinking it was a blanket or something.

“Hey,” she says, not sure what else to say, and a little surprised when Annie parrots her, her voice all soft and warm and sultry. No, Britta, not sultry. Innocent. Sweet. Annie-ish.

Annie asks if she can stay the night, doe eyes and all, and Britta can’t deny her, even with many, many dirty thoughts about Annie using her Disney eyes to convince Britta to do _other things_ running through her head.

She all but launches herself off the couch toward the bathroom, coming back with a toothbrush for Annie and then walking resolutely back into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Annie joins her and they just brush their teeth in silence together. And Britta likes it. She really likes it. She knows it has to end, though, so she goes into her room and grabs a blanket and pillow, more than ready to get out of close proximity to Annie damn Edison. But when Annie sees her she pouts, tilting her head to the side like a goddamn puppy, and says “what’re you doing?”

Britta knows that this won’t end well for her. Agreeing easily to Annie suggesting that they share her queen sized bed. But she goes along with it because what is Britta Perry if not selfish and controlled by her desires.

Desires? God, Britta! Get it together. This is Annie. Sweet, young, very sweet, very young, very straight, Annie. Stop desiring her!

In an effort to ease her own feelings with a little humor she flops down onto her bed and sprawls out like a starfish, laughing when Annie huffs at her and says “Britta! Ugh, scooch!”

She rolls over and slides in between the sheets, making room for Annie to get under the covers with her, too. And then they’re just… staring. At one another. Just both looking into the other’s eyes and Britta swears Annie can probably hear her heart pounding in her throat. She wants her. She wants to kiss Annie’s innocence right out of her. She wants her name on Annie’s lips, she wants- to turn over. And look away. To stop fantasizing about the only damn girl friend, er, friend who’s a girl, she’s ever really had.

She can feel Annie looking at her, basically boring a hole in Britta’s head with her gaze, and so she turns her head to look at her. And she sees in Annie’s eyes what can only be described as lust. Her heart stops and for a second it feels like the world stops turning.

She hears herself asking, “Annie, are you okay?”

In lieu of responding Annie lifts herself up on one elbow, her eyes roaming Britta’s face, almost nervously. Britta’s heart is pounding. She leans up on her elbow, too, not quite sure what else to do. She feels wrong, trying to sleep next to Annie, knowing she’ll probably be having any number of dirty dreams about her. She’s going to sleep on the couch. Annie will understand. She’ll just tell her, Annie, I think it would be best if you took the bed.

“Annie, I-“

Annie leans forward and tentatively brushes her lips across Britta’s and Britta can only respond. She feels like her entire body is made of those little twinkly Christmas lights and she’s too distracted by Annie to hate herself for it.

Annie leans in, forcing Britta onto her back while Annie leans over her, kissing her a little more fervently now that Britta is kissing her back. They stay like that for a moment, Annie leaning over Britta, pressing kisses gently and little chastely to Britta’s mouth before it becomes too much and Britta swipes over Annie’s lower lip with her tongue, gently asking, but asking all the same. Annie parts her lips ever so slightly and the moment their tongues touch Annie lets out what Britta can only call a moan.

The sound rocks her to her core, sending fire straight between her legs and she feels the urge to _consume_ Annie taking over her. This thought, that she wants Annie Edison, all of Annie Edison, snaps Britta back to her senses.

She pushes Annie’s shoulders gently, causing her to fall off to the side a little, and tries to regain control of her ragged breathing. Annie looks at her, clearly feeling a little put out, and the manic energy building in Britta ebbs enough for her to smile.

She wants to regret it, she wants to say “Annie, I’m so sorry for taking advantage of you,” wants to feel sorry. But she doesn’t. So she leans in and pecks Annie on the lips and lays back down with a thump.

“Britta?”

Her name hangs there, and she wonders if Annie’s thoughts are swirling like hers are, if she’s replaying every second of their kiss like Britta is.

“Annie, listen- “

“Not if you’re just going to say that was a mistake.”

Britta’s taken aback by how forward and upfront Annie is being.

“I mean, yeah. Okay. I was a little bit going to say that. But, can you blame me? You’re Annie. Nice, sweet, perfect Annie. And I’m me. Britta who messes things up, who hurts other people, who fuckin’ pervs on a goddamn 22 year old.” Britta sits up and rests her head in her hands.

“Hey!” Annie says, not unlike a petulant child, and sits up as well, “if anyone’s doing the perving it’s me! I’m the one who kissed you, Perry. Don’t try to take all the credit here.”

Britta can’t help but laugh.

“Alright, alright, so we’re both pervs, happy?”

Annie smiles at that but her pout quickly returns.

“So, are you saying you didn’t want to… well, that you didn’t want that?”

“Annie, are you too shy to say ‘make out’?”

“No! I just… Answer the question, Britta.”

Britta isn’t sure whether she should tell the truth or not. Lying would protect Annie. She could tell her that she didn’t want this, that she loves Annie but only as a friend. She could not come out to her, tell her she’s straight, too, that both of them are straight. But she looks at Annie, all open and vulnerable, all kiss mussed hair and pink cheeks and lips swollen from _making out, damnit_ , and she knows she has to tell her the truth.

“Of course I wanted it, Annie. I mean, damn, couldn’t you tell by the way I kissed you back?”

Annie’s eyes widen and her cheeks get even pinker.

“Well, if you wanted it and I wanted it then why did you stop?”

“Because, ugh. I don’t know, Annie. Because you’re straight. And I’m… well, I’m bi, and I didn’t want to take advantage of you. Plus, I was enjoying it like a little too much.” Britta’s own cheeks go pink at this confession, one she hadn’t exactly been planning to share, and Annie’s pout turns into a smirk.

“Oh, yeah?” she says, leaning in a little and batting her eyelashes.

“Yeah,” Britta huffs, almost giving in and closing the distance between them. “But, Annie, you’re still straight, no matter how good you are at kissing.” Get a hold of yourself, Perry, what the hell? Stop saying every thought that crosses your mind.

“Well, thanks,” Annie says, looking way too pleased with herself. “And, I’m not straight.”

There’s a beat of silence before Britta says “Look, I get it, all girls experiment a little in college, but this isn’t an experiment for me, Annie, I’m really, truly bi, and I feel like if I just like make out with you so that you can cross something off your college list than I’m not really being like the best friend I should be. You know? Like, if I…” Britta can feel herself rambling and she silently thanks Annie for cutting her off.

“Britta, I’m not experimenting. I’m… well, I think I’m actually a lesbian. Kissing you just now was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve kissed a few guys in my time and it’s never been like _that_.”

Britta wants to push her, wants to ask her more, wants Annie to describe in vivid detail how the kiss had felt for her, what else she wants from Britta, what she wants Britta to do to her.

Annie is looking at her questioningly and Britta is EMBARRASSED. Get your mind out of the gutter, a baby gay is here trying her best to come out to you and all you’re thinking about is your hand down her, well, technically they’re _your_ shorts. And that doesn’t help, either. Britta! Oh, wait, that’s Annie.

“Britta? Hello, earth to Britta. Are you listening to me, I’m kinda like sharing a lot with you right now?”

Britta clears her throat. “Yeah, I am, I’m sorry. I got… distracted?” she offers, but she knows she’s not doing a great job of clearing the cloud of lust from her eyes.

Annie smiles at her sympathetically and reaches out to grab her hand. “Just, please don’t like discount this is some college kid trying to get in your pants to check something off a list.”

“Are you? Trying to get in my pants?” Britta asks, careful to keep from sounding too excited.

“Well, not yet!” Annie says, and then blinks, and then blushes, and then (Britta assumes) dies. Britta just laughs and decides that maybe that’s enough for one night.

She lays down on her side and pats the spot next to her, fully expecting Annie to lay down facing her. But instead Annie faces the same direction as Britta and shifts back until she’s pressed herself firmly into Britta. Spooning. That’s what they’re doing. Spooning.

Some not entirely pure thoughts run through Britta’s head as she feels Annie’s ass pressed right into her groin, for Pete’s sake, but she doesn’t want to weird the younger woman out, so she, as casually as possible, reaches her arm around Annie’s waist and settles her nose into her hair. She feels Annie relax a little, and she tries not to be obvious about smelling her hair. Whose hair smells like fuckin honey, by the way? Not fair at all. But then, all of a sudden, Annie shifts and says “would you mind, um… well, would you mind if I was big spoon?”

Britta is in love. Well, maybe not, but damn. How cute can one person be?

She rolls over to her other side and feels Annie gather her up. She feels so warm and cared for and cozy. She snags Annie’s hand from around her waist and brings it up to plant small kisses on her fingers. It’s intimate, she knows, too intimate for a post-makeout snuggle after a not first date. And it probably isn’t doing anything to promote her tough guy image, but she can’t help it.

Annie’s breath catches a little and she snuggles impossibly closer. Neither of them know what’s coming next, and neither of them really want the moment to end, but it has to. Britta reaches over to her bedside table and flicks the light off. That’s a tomorrow conversation. Tonight, she’s content to feel Annie’s breath against her neck, to feel the weight of her arm around her waist, and to feel the faint squeeze of her affection around her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for checking it out! I'm thinking of skipping the chorus the first time, just to have it at the end. thoughts?


	3. Chapter 2: But big spoon, you have so much to do and I have nothing ahead of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, but a chapter nonetheless! Hope you enjoy it.

Britta knows that Annie is smart. She’s damn brilliant. And so she can’t help feeling that one day this… whatever you call making out with your close friend without telling any of your other friends, will end. And it will end because she’ll have to let Annie go. She’ll have to watch Annie walk into the sunset, metaphorically speaking, on to bigger and better things than Britta could ever give her.

She says this to Annie one evening, after they’ve been sneaking around in supply closets and between library shelves and in Britta’s backseat for about a month. They’re at Britta’s place, as it’s proven a little difficult for them to keep their hands off one another around Troy and Abed, and they’re really trying not to raise suspicion.

“Hey, Annie,” she starts. Annie knows that this is going to be something serious. Britta rarely addresses her by name, especially not with this tone.

“What’s up?” Annie asks, pausing the trash tv the she and Britta both secretly love.

“You know… I don’t know. I, I’ve just been thinking a little.”

Annie’s heart pounds. Is Britta going to end this? She’s not ready for it to end. She’s hardly ready for it to have started!

“Uh huh,” Annie says carefully.

“Well, I just. I just want you to know that I get it. If you don’t want to do more than just like… you know. What we’ve been doing.”

Annie smirks a little at this and says “More?”

Britta sputters and her cheeks redden. “No! I mean, not more in that sense. Unless you want to, I mean, it’s not that I don’t want more in that sense. I do. If you do! No pressure. It’s a 2 person decision-“

“Britta?”

“Right,” Britta says, trying to regain focus. “What I was trying to say is, I know you’re really smart. I know that you have, like, so many cool things ahead of you. And I just want you to know that I won’t, um, hold you back. I’m happy to have what we have. And I don’t want to, well. I don’t want to keep you from growing and becoming all that I know you can be.”

Annie levels Britta with a glare ferocious enough to make a lion turn tail and run.

“Britta,” she says, with so much intensity that Britta shivers a little, “you are not holding me back. You have a lot ahead of you, too. You have to believe in yourself. Like I believe in you. You’re going to be an amazing therapist, and I know it’s a little early to like, I don’t know, be planning anything as far as ‘us’ goes,” Annie does air quotes around “us,” and continues. “But I don’t know. I kind of assumed that wherever I’m headed that you’d be headed there, too.”

Britta’s smile lights up the room.

Annie can’t help but smile, too, and she leans in and kisses Britta, trying to put so much into it. To let her know that she believes in her, that she knows Britta is also destined for great things. To remind her that Annie cares about her, and wants her, in more ways than one.

At that thought she feels a blush creeping down her throat and she pulls away, having deepened the kiss a little more than she intended. She leans back into the cushions of the couch, pulling Britta into her, and presses play.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comment if you have suggestions.


End file.
